


Tidal Forces

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus never knew he would go to Ron until he did. And yet, somehow Ron always was expecting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidal Forces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Unpredictable terrain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/57995) by [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05). 



The cobbled streets were glistening with the early evening’s feather light drizzling rain, illuminated by the gas lit lanterns lining the walkways. The air smelled like ale, bourbon and fried fish with an undercurrent of magnolias and the sea. Severus Snape dodged the pockets of milling tourists as he pulled his collared jacket closer to his wrinkled nose.

The crowds and the gaudy, neon atrocities lessened as he made his way further along Bourbon street. If it were intolerable now, he shuddered to think what would happen to this area come sundown proper. He quickened his step.

He detested this town. He wasn’t overly fond of the country on a whole, yet often in the years since the war, he found himself wandering back. He wasn’t quite sure why.

The building he stopped in front of reminded him strongly of the Leaky Cauldron and his lip twitched as he walked through the opened shutter doors. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who looked for small bits of familiarity in their travels. He made his way to the back of the small room overstuffed with small tables.

“You’re late,” Ron Weasley said from the corner, not looking up from his chess board. “Your tea is getting cold.”

Severus opened his mouth, then shut it before he finally asked, “How...?”

Ron shrugged. “It’s the first full moon after the first new moon after six days after your last visit.”

Again Severus opened his mouth repeatedly before spitting out, “What gibberish is that?”

Ron motioned for Severus to set down opposite him before he rifled through his rucksack and pulled out a moon-phase calendar and handed it to the man.

Ron set up the board while Severus flipped through the book. Sure enough, like some lunar clockwork, there were little circles around the same pattern that just said, “Professor.” He remembered fondly the first months of their—what he had assumed—clandestine meetings; it had very much been Professor and Mr. Weasley. It was all nostalgia now and he wouldn’t want to go back, but he wondered how the shift had happened so imperceptibly that he barely realized it and how completely at odds they now found themselves from what they were.

“Would you like another cup?” Ron asked, then offered Severus his cup. “Or would you prefer to read my leaves?”

“I did not travel this far to waste my time on the ridiculousness of divination.”

“Then you no longer believe in prophecies? Or do you still prefer to get yours lurking in the shadows of others’ readings?” Ron said in a loud whisper.

Severus seethed but after a moment and deep breath said, “Must we always begin this way? Must I always pay a penance?”

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Your right, divination is highly overrated and tea leaves are rubbish.”

“Nothing good comes from looking too far in the future. You of all people should know that.”

Ron raised his eyes to the barman and nodded slightly. “Oh, I don’t know. There are some things that happen that a little warning would have been helpful. A few things I would have liked to have known were coming before they arrived.”

Ron didn’t elaborate, but Severus didn’t need him to. Harry. This was about Harry. Years later and it’s always about Harry. Severus had known they had been close in school, he didn’t realize just how close until after the war, until after Harry had…

Even Severus didn’t like to say the word. He who had seen so much death, so much suffering and still, even for him, that’s the one that hurt the most.

They let the arrival of two new cups of tea excuse their silence. When Severus took a sip, he let its abhorrent taste excuse the change of subject. “Gods, how do you drink this American swill?”

“It’s chicory. It’s good for you.”

“Are you dying?” Severus asked.

“No!”

“Then why are you drinking a weed for its health benefits?”

“A lot of tea is made from weeds. You just have to have discernable palate to enjoy—” he chuckled. “Okay, yeah, I couldn’t even get that out. I just like it. It’s different. Different is good.”

Severus sniffed. “Is that what has kept you so far from home, from family, from everyone and everything all these years?”

Ron put down his cup. “Must we always start this way? Must you always play the part of the concerned… I don’t know what… why do you even care?”

Severus didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Instead he picked at invisible lint from the knee of his leg-crossed trousers. “We both seem to have gotten through our _Must we’s_ , I guess we can move onto the next item on our agenda?”

Ron smiled wickedly and leaned over to hiss, “You’re right. Let’s fuck.”

Severus looked down his nose at the young man before clearing his throat, and replied in what he hoped sounded resigned instead of the urgent he felt, “If you insist.”

He then stood up, dug through his pockets for some foreign Muggle currency.

Ron stopped him. “It’s not that kind of establishment,” and he pulled out a handful of knuts and threw them on the table. “I’m worried about you Severus, can’t you _feel_ the magic?”

Severus blanched. He hadn’t felt anything. Well, that’s not true. He had felt something as he walked through the city early that day, a shift in the air every time he entered and left the parameters of what they called The French Quarter, but he had blamed it on the wind from the river, or the lilt of the accent, or the history broadcast from every tourist trap along the strip. Nothing to do with honest to goodness magic.

Ron took his hand and led him to the back of the establishment. “The Muggles believe that this bar, the oldest bar in America, was the hideout of the pirate Jean Lafitte who used it as a base of operations for his nefarious dealings. Like most Muggle legends, they got it half right. What they left out, what they are ignorant of is that Lafitte, while true a pirate, was also a wizard and this establishment, while true a bar, is also a gateway.”

They had weaved their way through the bar and to a dingy back room and through the door that looked very much like a walled garden. Ron took his wand from his hip, and like the entrance to Diagon Alley, tapped at a few seemingly random bricks until the magic took effect and began to open them up to an entire different, but very similar city street on the other side.

Now Severus felt it. Felt it in every blood vessel. Magic. Ron tugged on his arm before he had finished taking it all in. “Come on. We need to be somewhere safe before night falls entirely.”

“Why?”

“Vampires.”

Severus allowed himself to be dragged to a boarding house half a block down the cobbled street. “Surely there are statutes and regulations for the vampire community.”

“Are you kidding? This _is_ the vampire community’s. They own it. They _allow_ us to be here, as long as we don’t wander after dark and if we do, don’t get mental when we’re attacked. Vampires are the reason the Muggle government of Louisiana allows this magical city to exist.”

“The Muggles _know_ about vampires?”

“Of course, vampires and ghosts are how this town affords to function. The amount of tourists from all over the world who come to New Orleans for the opportunity to glance upon the dead and undead is staggering.”

“I had supposed it had to do with boobs, beads and the selling of copious amounts of alcohol.”

“That too. And there is something to do with a sport centered around an oblong pigskin type ball and lots of armor. I haven’t quite figured that one out.” 

They walked up the stairs of the house where Ron apparently already had booked a room and with a wave to the wizard behind the desk, Ron walked Severus down a hallway and up a flight of stairs.

The door barely clicked shut before Ron had Severus pinned to it, attacking his lips, his chin, his throat with his tongue, his teeth and hands as he pawed at Severus’ coat and shirt.

“Why do you wait so long?” Ron asked, pulling away and removing his own shirt.

“Why do you keep moving around making me have to track you down?” Severus returned, licking his lips as he gazed upon Ron standing before him shirtless and working the zipper of his jeans. Severus would never get used to this man being this naked in front of him.

“It’s for your own good. I am keeping you limber, keeping your mental facilities working at full capacity. Now, if you’ll let me—” he tugged at Severus’ trousers, popping the button open with his thumb. “I’ll test and strengthen and virility.”

Severus swallowed. “What do you have in mind?”

Ron slid his thumbs along the waist of Severus’ pants and pulled them and his trousers down before leaning into him and wrapping his hands around both of their cocks together, whispered in Severus’ ear. “I want to suck your balls until I feel your whole body shiver and shake—” Severus threw his head back and moaned. “Then I want to fuck you with my mouth until you go boneless before me—“ Severus took Ron’s arse in his hands and squeezed him closer. “Then when you’ve regained the ability to move, I want to lay you down on that bed and ride that tight little arse of yours all night long.”

“Shut up and fuck me.” Severus hissed and Ron fell to his knees. 

Ron looked up at him with eyes that twinkled and a smile that burned and Severus knew both would be the death of him, and he was completely fine with that.

Ron stuck his tongue as far as it would go and teased it along Severus’ scrotum, nuzzling Severus’ aching prick with his nose. Severus bit his lip to stop the plea from escaping. Ron, seemingly sensing Severus’ anxiousness, chuckled before taking the sac in his mouth and twirling his tongue around it, slightly pulling it as he sucked.

It only took a moment to get the reaction Ron had predicted and Severus shivered, his fingers twined in Ron’s shaggy ginger hair. He released Severus’ balls and immediately took his cock deep down his throat and sucked his hollowed cheeks up and down the shaft. The fingers of one hand massaged his balls some more, while his other hand snaked between Severus’ legs and his middle finger massaged the puckered skin of his arsehole.

There was a hum that started in Severus’ diaphragm, strengthened in his throat and curled and swirled out of his mouth almost like a purr. His blood burned through his veins and when he closed his eyes there were sparks like his synapses were short-circuiting. He needed to hold on to something, needed to brace himself for the release he was feeling work its way throughout his entire being.

All he had was Ron.

His fingers clutched at Ron’s shoulders, he wanted to gather fistfuls of him and pull him closer, consume him with his body. Then Ron growled low in his throat as he swallowed against Severus’ cock and the world stilled and pinpointed as Severus’ body almost floated away, his come swallowed down and the man responsible standing up briskly to catch Severus as once again, he did exactly what Ron had predicted and went completely boneless.

Ron wrapped Severus in his arms and effortlessly lifted him, walking them both to the ornate four poster. Severus barely scooted onto the middle of the bed before Ron was on him, again attacking him with his tongue.

“You are going to be the death of me,” Severus panted, and then held his breath, waiting for Ron to go to that place that he did when they stepped on a landmine of the mention, even in the throes of passion, of death. It used to be there were so many landmines, so many things brought Ron’s mind back to the war, back to the struggle, back to the day he lost his lover and best mate, when he lost himself.

“I can think of worse ways to go,” Ron said instead, not even acknowledging that the statement had registered. Severus smiled his agreement. _Much worse ways._

Ron, his eyes never leaving Severus’, reached for the side table for the lube. He sat up on his haunches and slicked his fingers with the substance before slathering it up and down his cock. Severus bit his lips and watched, spreading and grasping his knees when Ron slowly inserted one of his wetted fingers inside him.

“Mmm. So tight,” Ron hissed through his teeth. He pushed another finger in and Severus moaned. “What was that?” Ron asked.

Severus didn’t say anything. Ron slowly began to scissor his fingers against the walls of Severus’ arse.

“Please,” Severus finally gasped, then chanted as if he couldn’t stop. “Please, please, please.”

Ron smiled beatifically and removed his fingers, and gently nudging his cock to Severus’ hole.

He bent down to steady Severus’ legs spread against Ron’s shoulders. Severus pushed himself forward and wrapped his arms through Ron’s armpits and tight around his back, pulling him so Severus could kiss him as Ron slowly rode his cock deeper inside him.

“So good,” Ron whispered when Severus released his mouth. “So very good.”

Severus just watched Ron’s expressions as he continued to push in and out of Severus. He had never seen the young man more focused and more content than he did during their time in bed together. Severus often wondered what it would feel like to be inside of Ron, but it had yet to happen. Ron seemed to _need_ to possess Severus and Severus hadn’t felt the need to fight him for it. 

There was a peaceful stillness to Ron’s expression that was almost fond and Severus once again marveled to how things had changed. The first time they had found themselves naked in the same room had been a complete accident—of course it had been. They were shocked that their animosity had driven them to each other in snarled embraces with lots of pushing and thrusting, each needing something, neither of them admitting they could possibly receive it from the other.

Now though, now the pushing was caresses and the thrusting was slow, meticulous and tender. And yet, there were still many, many things they had never admitted, would probably never admit. 

Like how Severus would never admit that watching Ron come undone over him, feeling his ejaculation explode inside of him was one of the best moments of his existence these days. Or like how when anyone else he’d been with would collapse on top of him, totally spent, Severus would have an overwhelming need to push them away or feel weak being crushed beneath them. But, there with Ron, it was like being blanketed, being protected from the frigid and horrific of the outside world.

He certainly would _never_ admit to how after Ron would fall asleep next to him, his arm sometimes draped over Severus’ neck, but most times held under his chest, Severus would watch him sleep. How he would prop himself on an elbow and watch his back rise and fall and his eyelashes flutter in dreams and marvel that he was still so trusting.

After making sure Ron was truly asleep, Severus would blow hot air on the fingers of his free hand and gently run them along the freckles of Ron’s shoulder blades, imagining the sun that kissed those shoulders and left their tiny flecked mark. He would whisper in a sing-song an incantation, feeling the magic that would work its way under Ron’s skin, leaving a faint residual that would linger under the pores connecting Ron’s magic coding to Severus’ for a time. For approximately a month, give or take.

_“It’s the first full moon after the first new moon after six days after your last visit.”_

No, Severus would _never_ admit to that bit of magic. Would never admit to Ron that he wasn’t as clever as Ron supposed, wasn’t as good a tracker or Ron believed. Also, and more importantly, he would absolutely _never_ admit to himself that he needed that connection, needed to feel himself coursing under Ron’s skin, feel that connection to another living soul; to know that no matter what happened in between, when he needed Ron—not that he’d admit that either—he’d be able to find him.

No. Never.

**Author's Note:**

> Red, my darling dear, you gave me permission to remix any of your fics; how could I not choose the one that started it all. This story was the first time I got to fangirl you and I fell in love with it all over again while trying to do it justice. I hope you like what I've come up with--or at the least, aren't horrified.


End file.
